


5 Times Will Byers Wasn't Okay--and the One Time He Almost Was

by finnxwheeler



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 18:37:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11697525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finnxwheeler/pseuds/finnxwheeler
Summary: the title is pretty self-explanatory!





	5 Times Will Byers Wasn't Okay--and the One Time He Almost Was

I.  
Everything was dark. Time passed as though in a standstill. The fear coursing through Will Byers’ veins was constant, an emotion that was highly prevalent as he navigated the frightening world in which he was trapped. The only solace he had, if there was any such thing in this parallel, was that he was at home; or, at least, a darker version of home. He could sometimes see and hear his mother and brother, and it caused the panic to be staved off for only a few moments. He could still communicate with the real world, and it was the only thing keeping him sane and giving him the strength to keep fighting.  
Every breath he took was rattled and full of worry that it could be his last. Every run he made had him looking over his shoulder, his adrenaline carrying him a great distance and speed. Every hiding place he sought conveyed a sense that the creature could snatch him at any moment. Even at times when he felt the fight leaving him, tucked away shivering in the darker version of Castle Byers, that anxiety over death and his own fear never went away.  
Will survived a week in a toxic, terrifying environment, and it was by the skin of his teeth. There was not one moment when he was truly okay, but he had one thing to be thankful for: At least it wasn’t someone he cared about stuck in there. 

II.   
It was another night of fighting at the Byers’ home.  
Joyce was screaming at Lonnie, Lonnie was calling Joyce every name in the book, glass was breaking, things were slamming against walls. Will was cowered in a corner of his bedroom, trying to escape reality and sink into the depths of his fantasy world. He began to imagine that he was a brave knight on a quest—perhaps to save a handsome prince or a distressed princess—or that he was riding his bike as fast as he could down the street as the wind whipped through his hair.   
Or, his most favorite place yet: Anywhere with his best friend, Mike Wheeler.  
Tonight, however, none of his tactics were working. No matter how much he tried to tune it out, nothing was helping. The screaming was too loud, the breaking dishes too scary, the entire situation all too real. Will hugged his knees to his chest, starting to cry as he heard Lonnie shout at his mother. Then, moments later, these words from his father rang out, completely shattering Will’s heart:   
“These kids were a goddamn mistake. All they do is whine and get in the fucking way! We should have just stopped at Jonathan. Will is the biggest mistake I’ve ever seen. He’s the most worthless crybaby in the entire fucking world!”  
This was followed by Joyce screaming at Lonnie to get out, and he did so as he slammed the front door behind him. He was drunk or almost there, Will knew that, but the damage was done. When Joyce came in moments later to tearfully hug Will and assure him that he was NOT a mistake, Will began to wish that it was just him, his older brother Jonathan, and Joyce. Maybe then, he could finally be happy—they ALL could.  
Maybe tonight would be the night when Lonnie didn’t come home.

III.  
“Move out of the way, fairy faggot!”  
The words bounced around in Will’s brain, echoing and sinking in as the taunting child, Troy, laughed along with his friends. Will was only eleven years old and didn’t know what those words had meant until he casually asked Joyce about them one night. At first, Will had naively thought that it had been some sort of compliment and Lucas had tried to explain to him that it wasn’t. Lucas didn’t know much about it, either, as it turned out, so Will had been very confused. Will’s mother made clear the essence of the words used, and Will could feel his blood running cold and his heart turning to ice. Yes, Will knew that he was different than his male peers in that he never had a crush on a girl, but to have it thrown back at him in such an awful way had hurt fairly deeply.   
So on that day when Troy called him not one, but two slurs at once, Will began to immediately feel ill. Mike had been home sick with a stomach bug that same day, but Will’s other friends, Dustin and Lucas, had attempted to make him feel better instead. It didn’t work, and Will took off running on the playground, hid behind a tree, and began to sob quietly. He could still hear Troy, laughing and loudly screaming slurs directed to Will, until one of the teachers heard and escorted Troy to the principal’s office. Lucas and Dustin walked over to Will as another teacher found him, offering him candy and a tissue in an attempt to cheer him up.  
But it was too late. Those words were already embedded in Will’s mind, and he figured that it would likely be permanent. They brought on bouts of deep sadness every time Will gave them even the smallest thought from that moment forward, and he thought that he would never be okay again.

IV.  
The pain had been sharp, hot, and sticky, knocking more air from Will’s lungs than the actual fall had. He could hear Joyce shouting, Will watching through teary eyes as she ran over to him. He’d fallen out of a tree that he’d been climbing at the edge of the woods around his home, trying to break the plunge below and cutting one of his hands on a rock as a result. Joyce immediately scooped Will in her arms, observing the gash on his hand with concerned eyes.   
“Oh, God!” she exclaimed. “Baby, are you okay?!”  
Instead of answering, Will noted how much blood trickled down his inner arm and immediately burst into tears. His hand throbbed terribly as well, and Joyce was ushering him toward the car to drive him to the emergency room. Will sobbed and whined painfully the whole way, his injured hand wrapped in an old, clean dishcloth so that he wouldn’t get blood all over himself and the car. As it turned out, Will didn’t need stitches and it didn’t even leave much of a scar later on, but Will’s six year old mind couldn’t help but think that it was the worst pain he would ever have to endure.  
He was wrong. Very wrong.

V.  
Will had experienced more trauma than any child should ever have to. He had a father who was abusive and who never loved or cared about him, bullies who targeted him because he was different than the others, and he had just gotten out of a world which should only exist in nightmares. Will figured that many children grew up with at least one horrible parent or being bullied at some point in their lives, but how many could say that they were trapped in a world straight out of a Stephen King novel?  
Not many, Will wagered.  
As if being stuck in a horrible parallel universe wasn’t enough, Will had brought something equally nasty back with him: Slugs. Mysterious, slimy, creature-like slugs that lived somewhere inside of him. Were they breeding? Was it some that got inside of him while he had been trapped, and as soon as they were all coughed up, they would be gone for good?

Will wasn’t certain about any of that, but he did know that it terrified him.  
He couldn’t even tell anyone what was going on, and that only fueled his fear even further. Everyone had done enough worrying over him while he was missing and even assumed dead, so why concern anyone with what might be nothing? Still, all those nights he lay on the bathroom floor, sick and expelling more slugs from his insides, crying because it was just as disgusting as it was painful and scary, began to take a toll on him. He wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to hide it, or how long he could keep lying about it.  
Will Byers wasn’t okay. Not at all, and the sooner he plucked up the courage to tell someone, the better off he would likely be.

The One Time Will Byers Was Almost Okay  
It had been another night of mind-numbing, paralyzing terror. Mike Wheeler had been sleeping over at the Byers’ home that night, and Will wanted so badly to wake him. He didn’t want to be alone; he needed someone as their world disappeared around him, giving way to the horrifying dark universe that lie beneath: The place where he’d spent a week almost a year prior, fearing that his life could end at any given moment.  
Thunder clapped overhead. Lightning flashed bright in the red sky. The night in the real world had been clear, but Will knew all too well that it didn’t matter here. This was a different place, one only Will could see, and there was something after him. It was clawing, gnawing, the form of the creature present in that grimly illuminated sky, even from Will’s bedroom window—  
“Will?” a voice sounded. “Will!”  
The voice was muffled, distant. He followed it, allowing the sound to guide him out of the terrifying parallel and back to existence in his own world. He blinked his surroundings into focus, eyes darting around to take in the familiar sights of his bedroom. He finally looked at the person who was talking to him, and could see that it was none other than Mike.  
“Will?” Mike asked, panic clear in his tone. “Will? What happened? Are you okay?”   
“Yeah,” Will said, pressing his face to Mike’s chest as he hugged his friend. “I…It…It was…it…”   
“Shh…” Mike soothed, squeezing Will gently to comfort him. “You don’t have to tell me. Just know that I’m here, okay? I’ll keep the bad stuff away as best as I can.”  
Will laid there, cuddled against Mike’s chest, listening to his heartbeat and inhaling Mike’s unique scent of vanilla, mint toothpaste, and the Wheeler basement. Mike cradled Will, rocking him and humming softly as he pressed a few kisses to his temple. Will may not have been completely okay in that moment, but he was as close as could be for, perhaps, the first time in his entire life.


End file.
